


Outside Kayne's Bar & Diner At 9PM

by dudebro69



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Connverse (implied?), Explicit Language, Gen, Slice of Life, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24186031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dudebro69/pseuds/dudebro69
Summary: Steven chills and briefly catches up with his uncle. He has never encountered DARE.
Relationships: Andy DeMayo & Steven Universe
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	Outside Kayne's Bar & Diner At 9PM

The eggs looked nasty. He didn’t trust the sausages either. The place was crowded by a mix of people just out of work and those just starting their night. Luckily they served breakfast all day. The high-walled booth in the corner was warm, dimly lit, out of the way enough to hide from everyone and sink onto the table. He was supposed to meet Lars in a bit, struggling to look forward to it. Sleeping in until a few hours before sundown, in the summer no less. What a mess. A shout in the diner jolted Steven from his sleepy recline. 

He peeked over the divider behind him, watching Uncle Andy bundle through the counter crowd calling his name. Steven waved an arm, his uncle’s face lighting up with an enthusiastic greeting, hurting himself on the wooden booth whilst quickly capturing his nephew in an uncomfortably tight hug. 

“Uncle Andy!” Steven barely squeaked through heavy pats on his back. The table rattled as he planted himself on the other side of the booth.

“I was waving at the front but you didn’t see me.”  


“Sorry,” he pushed the plate away and shotgunned his OJ, “I didn’t expect to see anyone I knew here.”

“I coulda told ya how bad the food is, saved ya some scratch.” Steven laughed as Andy side-eyed the eggs, acting out a shudder and a wretch.

They went through the usual. His uncle commented on how much he’d grown, invasively ruffling his longer, puffier hair, interrogating on what he was up to these days. Steven complimented him on his new haircut and jacket, which he appreciated with a joking faux-narcissistic confidence. He showed him photos of Connie on her university trip to Brussels with a blushing smile, and Andy reminded him that he was still to meet her. Andy had parked the plane for a few months, staying in the city he had fond memories of. He explained that this dive was, unbelievably, much better before new management, which explained the high-price urban locale.

Steven paid leaving a generous tip and the older man invited him out front. He pulled out a loud metal chair while Steven stayed leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets.

Andy held out a packet with one cigarette pushed up conveniently. The boy looked his uncle up and down with skepticism; considering his self-healing, how cool other teens looked, rites of passage. He took his hand out of his pocket with an attempt at nonchalance. 

"Ey!" Andy exclaimed, jolting closer, pulling the carton away with a mischievous grin, seeing through the boy's false confidence. Steven squeaked and crumpled up. The man laughed brightly and bodily, peeking out his wrinkled eyes a few times to see his nephew's red-faced, embarrassed glare. Steven fixed his attention across the street as if the person unloading the back of the logoless white 40-footer was the most interesting thing going on.

Andy sighed, muttering something. The teen's eyes snapped from the forklift operator to the item closest to his face; a cigarette held up in Steven's peripheral vision. 

He took it, rolled it between his fingers at his side, wondering if some passerby would take notice, while Andy patted every jacket and pant pocket on his person. 

He looked like a kid. The second to third thing people usually remarked upon was his baby-ness. Surely someone would stop him, or at least throw a dirty look at this smoking tall child. People don't like secondhand smoke. He's putting others at risk by doing this. What if the whiff of his cigarette is asthma-inducing, what if they forgot their inhaler that day. 

"And here I thought Greg raised you betta' than that." Andy spoke around the smoke hanging from his lips, trying the inside pockets now.

"Fuck sake..." He grumbled as he jingled through change. 

Steven could hear Pearl's squawking in his head, the cigarette snatched from him. Then promptly snatched from Pearl, eaten by Amethyst. An order to go to his room, a shout up the stairs that 'they' were (Pearl was) telling Greg. Garnet's quiet indifference, softly intoning the importance of formative experiences. He would huff with the memory of Pearl smoking to impress a girl at a concert but wouldn't bring it up to avoid the escalation.

A flame flickered close to Steven's face. Did he just hold it in the flame? People seem to light it while it's in their mouth. What's the function of that? He had seen people light it when it wasn't in their mouth. Although he was sure that wasn't tobacco. 

Quickly deciding that imitation was the game, he  inhaled in the flame, unfamiliar burning in the back of his throat and an unpleasant taste. The cherry stayed lit. No coughing, he thought somewhat smugly. Then the urge started to rise. He exhaled moments before hacking became unavoidable, satisfied by the rising smoke. The cloud was lit up in the orange evening light that peeked through the low-rise buildings. Steven quietly congratulated himself, in a very teen way, on successfully imitating what he'd seen, on measuring up to and performing such an adult action. Shame was masked by the egotistical high of this new subversive image.

Andy did the same with practised motions and flipped the lighter closed.

Before he tucked the light away his nephew gestured to it, taking a second draw. In the boy's hand the lighter was heavy, silver metal, ornate. He felt around the chips and dinges and ingrained grime. He guessed it was from India. On the other side was engraved a name that wasn't Andy's. He returned the item. 

"You smoke a lot?" The older man flicked ash to the ground. 

"N-no.

"Just, now and again. Y'know." Steven cringed. He didn't know what he was trying to prove.

His uncle's brows raised for a moment. He guessed he'd given the most desireable answer. No guilt that it's the first, nor that it's a habit. 

"So ya not addicted." Exhaling smoke through his nose as he spoke, Andy gave a small hopeful smile. 

"Nope." 

"That's good."

He could see the appeal though. It looked cool, he thought. He was so chronically under stimulated, he jumped at having something to do with his hands. It was an adult way to escape from an overwhelming social situation for fifteen minutes. And the rising head-high. A strange wave of confidence. Hm.

"And you?"

"... Me?"

"Smoke a lot?"

"Heh. You don't get these dulcet tones without at least a twenty a day." Andy laughed the same as always - Steven noted with surprise that he enjoyed hearing it - tailing off into a cough.

"Heh... I like your voice." Steven flicked the cigarette as if he'd done it before. Some small glowing embers died on the pavement. 

One wouldn't kill him. No number could kill him, most likely. He breathed deep, the warm breeze a mix of the smokers area stink, fried food and gasoline. This moment with his favorite-least-favorite uncle outside the most average bar-diner in this state; he could appreciate the atmosphere. Sunset was his favorite time of day. Someone dropped a pallet across the street, the bang barely echoing over the rush hour traffic. A taxi dropped off a group of good-looking twenty-somethings for the nightclub a few doors down. 

He didn't know if Lars still thought smoking was cool. He exhaled and watched the smoke rise and dissipate. 

"You're chill, kid." After snuffing his smoke in the ashtray he immediately lit a second. 

"Most of the time." Steven smiled and shrugged, examining the cigarette, second-guessing the proper way to hold it.

"Ohh," he got that mischievous grin again, "I don't wanna see you the other times. Greg's said enough. But right now, when the hippie-blood-feud-whatever isn't goin' on, you're a good kid."

A wave of anxiety washed over him. The reminder that other people talk about you is never pleasant. 

"It's-" Steven started. 

"I know they're not hippies, I'm screwin' with ya. I know.

"And everyone's family is screwed up. We're all a little whack. I know I'm a lot whack... I wasn't always this nice, and personable.” He swept ash off the table, watched a tourist duo pass by.

"Aw, you shoulda met Aunt Debbie, you'da liked her. Tall, too tall for the Demayos. That's a story in itself." He chuckled. 

"Turns out Ma wasn't all that faithful, I'll leave it at that. Debbie. She was... gay, y'know," Steven could see he was paranoid about sounding rude. "Like your aunts. Strong person. Real, real free spirit. I've had my drinks with her. Could drink any man under the table!"

"She sounds like fun." The teen spoke sincerely.

"She died, '07." His expression clouded, forming a sympathetic half-smile.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"What? You kill her? Don't worry. Hate when people say sorry for other people dyin'. It happens. It just," Andy waved his free hand, leaning on his fist and going back to people-watching. 

Steven felt the heat near the back of his fingers as the cigarette burned to its near-end. He took his last draw and leaned over Andy for the ashtray. It was strange to notice, no one noticed him at all.

"I wish I could've met more of my human family, but honestly I'm not too hot on meeting Greg's parents-" 

" _Oh_ geez. God, no. Save yourself the trouble." 

"I don't think I'll get two for two on grandmas trying to kill me, but I'm better at picking my battles now." he added with a strained smile.

Andy laughed, once again enough to throw him into a cough which he covered with his fist. 

"T-that's rough, that's dark, kid... But nah, not even knowing they had a grandkid? Their own fault. You don't even know the half of it, I swear. When Greg left his ma talked about him like he betrayed them or some shit. And I didn't help, not being around, chickening out when I knew something was up, then actually _showing_ up saying the same stuff his parents did. Ack-" he dragged his hand down his face, expression screwing up in embarrassment and regret. 

"You talk to him now, though."

“I do. Your dad’s a gas.”

Steven adjusted his jacket. He tried fruitlessly to fix his ruffled hair using his phone screen’s reflection, sighing when it puffed back to its previous state. His hand smelled like smoke, he noticed with distaste.

“I’m sorry, I gotta go meet Lars. But I loved seeing you.” He patted the man’s shoulder before he was pulled into a brief half hug.

"Hey, Steven, you got a number? Tweeter? I'll text if I'm around. If you want, don't want to impose. We both get around." He held up his hands.

"Andy! You're on the grid now?!" 

"Yeah, Greg not tell ya? Touch Screen and everythin'." He unlocked and dropped a smartphone on the table. Steven added his number.  “There’s some funny Jifs on that messaging thing. I send ‘em all the time.”

Steven accidentally deleted his own contact on the unfamiliar phone, starting the process again.

“What you doin’ with this ‘Lars’ anyway. Anything fun planned?” 

“Oh, It’s a weekly thing. He really wants to show me a planet in the Ucentes Binary System,” he continued entering his info, focused on not mistyping on the tiny screen. “Or as he says, Ucentes BISYS. He thinks it sounds really cool to talk like some Gem platoon captain but he sounds like a dork.”

“Geez.” Andy groaned, planting his face in his hands. His nephew held the phone out expectantly, pulling back when he registered the man’s reaction.

“Hey, I’m as much an Earthling as I am a… Spaceling.” Steven offered. 

“I knowww.” He took the phone back, his mouth a thin line and brows heavy.

“And if anything goes horribly wrong, I know I can breathe in space for a good six hours!” 

Andy’s expression was of horror. Someone a few feet away took notice of his exclamation, laughing and returning to their conversation. Steven hung his hand on the back of his neck, stuffed the other in his pocket.

“No doubt you’re Greg’s kid, that’s for sure.” He grinned though there was still sadness in his eyes, attempting to will his concern away.

The Gem started backing away, throwing up a peace sign.

“Wait! How you gettin’ there?” 

Steven stopped, still close by.

“Bus, then Interdimensional Portal.”

“Oh, obviously.” Andy rolled his eyes. “I know the answer but… You won’t stay? I’ll sneak you a beer.”

“Eugh, dude. Nasty.”

“Damn, okay.” Uncle Andy slouched fully and comfortably in the outdoor seating area and started emptying his pockets. He dropped some crumpled papers in the trash can nearby. He handed the kid a twenty dollar bill. Steven rebuked, reminding him that he was rich, but Andy forced the bill and two cigarettes into his hand anyway and squeezed.

“Well, see ya Steven. You’re a gem.”

“Thanks! Shame I’ve only heard that one eighty-four times.”

He said his goodbye, deciding on finger guns the second time. The breeze was starting to cool, the sky a cooler shade of blue with the brightest stars peeking out. Chats with Andy were nice. He could see why Greg found him occasionally exhausting, when he dipped into massive, rambling stories from decades back, which hadn’t happened this time. He tended to go round in circles talking about the same people or retelling events, with slight additions or new comments. Greg had probably heard or lived through them all. Steven sent a smiley to Andy, then opened the forty messages in his friends’ group chat like the morning paper. He considered a trip to the car to change into sneakers. That is, until the digital clock on the corner building sent panic through him, and he started a sprint towards his panicked wait at the bus stop.

**Author's Note:**

> i like the thought that andy's trying to change and stay in touch. i think he'd be a well-meaning, nice uncle, but still stuck in the past a little, in all the things that have happened to him. i optimistically/foolishly hold out on hope for boomers of andy's caliber even now. yes, steven thinks he's very cool with his two cigs. smoking isn't cool kids!!!! idk why i wrote this but i had fun. thanks for reading x


End file.
